


Gross Miscommunication (or, Whose Idea Was the Joker, Anyway?)

by irisbleufic



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-08
Updated: 2007-08-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no accounting for human monstrosity, and Crowley should know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gross Miscommunication (or, Whose Idea Was the Joker, Anyway?)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LJ in August of 2007.

"I _told_ you," repeated Crowley, desperately, leaning halfway across the table and pounding it with both fists. "It wasn't _us_! D'you honestly think my higher-ups _like_ that kind of disorganization? Besides, Hastur got pissed off about all those counts of arson, in which he of course had no involvement. Somebody's stealing his thunder."  
  
Aziraphale rubbed his temples, balefully wishing they hadn't drunk all the wine so quickly. He hadn't intended the meeting to go like _this_. He'd merely been ordered to ask a few questions. It was the first time in at least three hundred years that he'd been ordered to _negotiate_ a meeting with the Enemy, rather than just meet with Crowley on his own casual terms. And _that_ , his superiors didn't know about.  
  
"What's the possibility of third-party involvement, do you suppose?" he finally asked, at wits' end. "I never _did_ appreciate the autonomy granted to those so-called Horsemen. I'd say the trigger-happy redhead has her hands all _over_ this one."  
  
Crowley slumped back into his chair.  "Doubt it. War prefers to pull the trigger _herself_."  
  
"That and guns don't seem to be the primary focus," sighed Aziraphale.  
  
"I don't want to go in there," said Crowley, darkly. "Don't want _you_ to go in there."  
  
Aziraphale reached across the table and set a hand on Crowley's.  
  
"Nor should we," he said. "It's _their_ mess. Let _them_ sort it out."  
  
"What? Those _kids_?"  
  
"No. The humans."  
  
Crowley sputtered. "But _we're_ —"  
  
"Human enough, but not _that_ human," said Aziraphale, unsmiling. 

 

 


End file.
